


An Unlikely Reunion of Lost Love - Aragorn

by writingsofa_hobbit



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle, Character Death, F/M, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11754201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingsofa_hobbit/pseuds/writingsofa_hobbit
Summary: When the Fellowship is attacked by the Uruk-hair, the reader is thought to be dead and left behind, something that breaks the reader's secret admirer, Aragorn's, heart. Months later, after the Battle of Hornburg, Aragorn and the Reader are reunited and confessions of love are traded between the two.





	An Unlikely Reunion of Lost Love - Aragorn

I watched in horror as the world seemed to darken as the blood drained from Boromir’s gaunt face, leaving his skin pale and sickly, contrasting dramatically with the blackened arrows that protruded from his chest. 

Aragorn, the world roughened man who would be king, the man who unknowingly held my heart in his callused hands, knelt by the dying warrior’s side, grief and worry written in the hard lines of his face as he watched the life leave his friend’s eyes, heard him speak his last words, feel him breathe his last breath. 

“I would have followed you, my brother,” Boromir managed, “my captain… my King.”

And with that, his last breath billowed from his bloodied lips, sending waves of grief through the scattered members of the now broken fellowship as Aragorn placed his hand upon the fallen warrior’s head and then to his lips, respect evident in his movements. 

“Be at peace, son of Gondor,” the raspy but firm voice murmured.   
My mind was so clouded with bereavement that I didn’t notice the Uruk-hai creeping ever closer towards me, sword raised to strike me down. 

Aragorn’s eyes desperately fixed on me was the last thing I saw and a yelling of my name was all I heard before the world went dark.  
-  
I frantically ripped shreds of my own clothing from my body and pressed them to the deep crimson gash that ran the length of Y/N’s back. 

“No,” I gasped, tears beginning to blur my vision as the grief of losing one companion yet another, one who meant more than anyone ever had to me, overwhelmed my heart. 

“Aragorn,” Legolas chided softly, his hand light against my heaving shoulders, a futile offer of console, “she’s gone, mellon. She has to be. Not even an elf could withstand a wound such as that.”

She’s gone… the words echoed in my head and weakened my limbs as my remaining companions lifted me to my feet, my eyes still lingering on the limp form of the woman who had always been by my side, who had always offered me comfort and friendship… the woman who had always held my heart and my deepest affections in her now lifeless hands.

“Come,” the roughly accented voice of Gimli said, “we must continue on.”  
And so I went, the mutilated pieces of my broken heart left with the woman who I had loved, but would never be able to love again. 

-

The daylight had come again and a red dawn rose over the many fallen Uruk-hai and many more lifeless men and elves, and what was left of the warriors of Hornburg. If it had not been for the aid of the Eorlings, the settlement would have become poisoned with the presence of the wretched filth that was the Uruk-hai hoard. 

When Gandalf had been snatched from the fellowship by the Balrog, Aragorn and the rest of the fellowship, including Y/N, had mourned sorrowfully, but after the loss of Y/N, Aragorn had been absolutely shattered. Now that Gandalf had returned to the world of the living… the world in which the heartsick suffered… it didn’t seem fair to the warrior that Y/N couldn’t return as well, or so he thought. 

As Aragorn walked through the battlefield, a despair riven spirit among the frames of ghosts who had once been so lively and so loyal and those who grieved the loss of their loved ones, he imagined seeing the figure of his lost love, his Y/N.

Just a hallucination, he thought, that’s all it is. She’s been dead for months now. She’s not real.

But even as Aragorn told himself those doleful tidings, the rustling of the wind through her tied back hair, the crimson stains, both old and new, upon the fabric of her clothing, the way her left hand gripped the hilt of her sheathed sword… it was all too real. 

The figure turned, her soft features and once hardened gaze now turned soft met his gaze and his heart convulsed violently, tears coming to his eyes. Unable to bear looking at her, Aragorn turned away, deciding he would occupy his mind by finding his companions, the remains of the fellowship. 

“Aragorn! Aragorn!” Her voice called, as sweet as the day she died, taunting him with every step. It all looked, sounded and felt so right, but alas, Y/N was still gone, still missing from his life, from the world. “Aragorn! Aragorn!”

Leave me alone, woman, Aragorn thought, have I not grieved for you enough? Is my heart not broken enough yet?

A hand clasped his shoulder and spun him violently around, an actual touch in a time when everything felt fake. His gaze met the E/C one of the woman he had loved, the woman he thought he had lost and just the image of her sent his mind reeling with utter shock and confusion. 

“Y/N?” Aragorn’s voice was shaky as he inquired the woman of a name he knew was hers. 

“Aragorn?” She replied, worry and hurt as evident in her voice as the knowledge that she had been thought to have died was void, “why did you turn away from me? I thought you would be happy to see me, after all these months I’ve been absent. Are you alright, Aragorn?”

Tears brimmed in his eyes and pure relief had clouded his mind so densely, that in one moment he was alone, heart still broken, and the next, Y/N was wrapped tightly in his arms, his tears falling on her armored shoulder… and he had no recollection of any moment or action in between. All he knew then was the comfort of Y/N’s arms around him and his around her, and the tranquility that followed.

“Do not leave me again,” Aragorn scolded as firmly as he possibly could in the heart sickened voice with which he spoke, “do not leave me alone again with the thought of your lifeless body tormenting my head.”

“What?” Y/N implored as she pulled out of the embrace, her warm E/C eyes filled with a new glimmer of misery, “you thought I was dead?”

The words were so terrible that all Aragorn could do was nod slowly, tears still falling down the dirt smudged and well-worn skin of his face and down into the stubble that served as his beard. 

And then her arms were around him again and the peace inside his healing heart resumed. 

“I’m so so sorry, Aragorn,” she whispered, her words gracing his ears in the way he once thought they never would again, “I didn’t know you cared so much about me, and that the thought of my death would have affected you so deeply.”

“Y/N,” Aragorn responded, his words falling into the depths of her H/C hair, “I care about you more than you could ever know… and your loss made me realize just how much the extent of that care reaches.”

“And?” Y/N asked, her voice shaking as she pulled back just enough to look into Aragorn’s clouded eyes, “how far does it reach?”

“To the point at which I can truly say that I have fallen for you… I love you Y/N,” Aragorn confessed, “I love you.”

Tears brimmed in Y/N’s eyes as she hugged him more fiercely than ever before, her form shaking with a breath of relief, of sadness… of love.

“And I love you, Aragorn. I always have, and I still do.”

Y/N’s words pierced Aragorn’s heart as the realization that the woman he loved returned those feelings set over his mind, much like a silvery fog upon a grass swathed moor.

“Oh, Y/N,” Aragorn sobbed, enveloping the woman in his arms, guaranteeing her safety, love and utter happiness with one single gesture. “I promise I’ll love you wholly and truly for an eternity and longer.”

“And I can vow the same,” Y/N’s voice replied, the words emanating from lips softer than the tears that rolled slowly down the curves and depressions in her face, and so much sweeter than honey and song.

It was on that battle field, amongst all the pain and sorrow and loss, there was a pinprick of hope, of light, of everlasting love, that the two stood, grateful for the other’s presence, their arms around the other as if to say, “I’ll always love you, and I’m never letting you go.”


End file.
